{"id":199,"date":"2016-06-04T08:08:33","date_gmt":"2016-06-04T12:08:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/?page_id=199"},"modified":"2016-06-04T08:59:59","modified_gmt":"2016-06-04T12:59:59","slug":"packing","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/stories\/packing\/","title":{"rendered":"Packing"},"content":{"rendered":"

She was becoming intimate with her belongings, things left in boxes, drawers and closets–things put away and forgotten. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The nebulizer, once upon a time, used thrice daily on her three-year old son, so hard to obtain in the first place, was in its original box. \u00a0She\u2019d kept it these twenty-five years, in case his asthma came back and he might need it, or someone might need it. \u00a0She put it in the pile for the Goodwill–although she doubted anyone would want it. She knew this machine was easily obtainable, prescribed routinely in this day and time. \u00a0Back then, not so. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

She systematically picked up each item from the shelves holding purses, hats and the worn leather briefcase that she hadn\u2019t needed or used in a decade. \u00a0\u00a0She loved that case, so much like a western saddle, the color of the leather, the feel, \u00a0the utilitarian makeup. \u00a0She\u2019d passed it over many times, over the years since it was last used, in the sorting and cleaning of the closets. \u00a0This time, she let it go. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

She packed five boxes of photo albums, filled with pictures dating back to 1951, although there were scant few of the early years, but every birthday, Christmas, Easter and vacation since 1980 was represented in varying degrees of advancing camera technology. \u00a0She glanced through each book, briefly. \u00a0\u00a0Everyone was so young, their hair so brown or blonde, so slim and fit. \u00a0Was that her? \u00a0Was she even the same person anymore? \u00a0She kept them all. \u00a0But who would look at them? \u00a0Who cared? \u00a0\u00a0Shouldn\u2019t she select a few, representational images and pare down this volume of moments? \u00a0\u00a0Another day, perhaps. \u00a0\u00a0There was more packing to do. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

They were coming for the ping-pong table today. \u00a0\u00a0Her husband, the champion player loved the table as did every guest who tried their hand at the game. \u00a0\u00a0They were always surprised, this old man\u2019s got it! \u00a0Of course, she always knew he had it. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Finally, the Bow-Flex goes. \u00a0She\u2019d dusted that thing every week. \u00a0And the ugly ottoman was in the pile. \u00a0Where was the matching, oversize, won\u2019t-fit-any-room, chair? \u00a0Wherever it is, she hoped it stays there and doesn\u2019t make its way back to her. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

She carefully wrapped the porcelain creamer and sugar bowl in bubble wrap and placed them in a box labeled for her son. \u00a0She enclosed notes on which of his great grandmothers it belonged to (Jane) and where Jane\u00a0bought it–Paris while studying abroad. \u00a0The story goes that\u00a0Jane’s parents had sent her to France to break up an attraction to a boy who, in the end, she married anyway. \u00a0A smart young man. \u00a0He drank too much. \u00a0He was amazing though. \u00a0You could tell from his pictures. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

She found the little girl dress pattern and fabric, all cut out, ready to be sewn. \u00a0It was meant for her grandchild. \u00a0At the end of the day, she sat about making the dress. \u00a0But the bobbin bundled up, many times, the machine wouldn\u2019t feed, \u00a0she mistook the dress back for the front, a considerable error which could not be undone. \u00a0She remembered why she hated sewing. \u00a0\u00a0The pattern and material was deposited in the Goodwill pile. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ah, \u00a0here they are, the Liberty Family Assistance truck (a kind of Goodwill in this rural place). \u00a0The two men, were so appreciative. \u00a0They delighted in the bow-flex, the extra golf clubs, the grill, the box of books, the fishing poles, the suits and clothes. \u00a0\u00a0\u201cI have more things and will call you back when it\u2019s time,\u201d \u00a0she told them. \u00a0They shook her hand and thanked her. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Now if someone will buy the house, she\u2019ll finish up here and settle ever so lightly in a good place, where people around her are friendly, and there aren\u2019t too many rules, a place where the birds sing, the sun shines, the rain falls gently and someone else cuts the grass, cleans the gutters, fixes the roof and all those tiresome homeowner things. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a9 Glenda Kotchish<\/span><\/p>\n

May 2016<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

She was becoming intimate with her belongings, things left in boxes, drawers and closets–things put away and forgotten. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The nebulizer, once upon a time, used thrice daily on her three-year old son, so hard to obtain in the first place, was in its original box. \u00a0She\u2019d kept it these twenty-five years, in case his asthma … Continue reading Packing<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":33,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-199","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/199","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=199"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/199\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":201,"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/199\/revisions\/201"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/33"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=199"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}